“Isn’t there anything you can try?” Relam asked the healer for what must have been the thousandth time since the attack.
The healer shrugged disconsolately. “He is alive, my prince. But he is very weak. As far as I can tell, he got a much larger dose of the sleeping potion than you and your mother. A little more would have stopped his heart.”
“So, all we can do is wait?”
“For this to work out of his system, yes,” the healer agreed. “Each time he rises to semi-consciousness, we are a step closer. If I knew what had been used, I could awaken him within a day or two.”
“You mean you could create an antidote?”
“Of course. Most of the training a royal healer does is in the realm of antidotes.”
Relam nodded thoughtfully. “I think I know someone who can help us with that,” he muttered. “Three someones, actually.”
“The assassins?”
“Yes.”
“Your highness, with all due respect, I don’t think it wise to let you leave the palace right now.”
“I’ll go under guard, to the Citadel, which is the safest place in the whole kingdom,” Relam said, raising an eyebrow at the healer.
The older man squirmed uncomfortably. “Speak to your mother about it, my prince. She can offer better counsel than I.”
“He should go.”
They started guiltily and turned in unison to see the queen’s small figure standing in the door. “He will be quite safe at the Citadel, and it would do him good to be outside again, if only briefly,” she added with a small smile.
Relam grinned at his mother. “I’ll be on my way then,” he said, smiling.
The queen nodded. “You’re welcome,” she said pointedly.
“Thanks,” Relam replied hurriedly, “I’ll be safe, I promise.”
“Oh, and take Aven with you,” his mother added as he crossed the main room to his own.
“Aven?” Relam asked, not sure he’d heard right.
“Yes, Aven. I know he is training as a soldier and that you are the reason why.” The queen smiled at Relam’s befuddled expression. “I’m a mother. I know everything you and your father are up to, Relam. Besides, Aven is young and keen-eyed. He may see what you and your guards do not.”
“He’s probably at guard training though,” Relam protested. “On the other side of the city.”
“No, he’s in your room right now,” his mother replied.
Relam poked his head out the door in time to see Aven sneaking out of his room, probably having heard his name mentioned.
“Well?” the prince asked. “Are you up for a little mission, Aven?”
“Always,” the boy replied, practically bouncing from excitement. “Where are we going?”
“The Citadel,” Relam replied, striding across the main room and scooping up his sword belt from where it lay on his bed. “It could be dangerous, though.”
“Okay.”
Relam frowned at the younger boy severely. “If we’re attacked, you run back to the palace or to the Citadel, whichever is closer. Got it?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Relam grunted.
“That goes double for you, son,” his mother called from the king’s sickroom.
“Of course,” Relam said, gritting his teeth. He hated running from a fight. “Come on, Aven. We’ll collect a few guards on the way to the entrance hall.”
Aven grinned and followed Relam out into the corridor. The guards on duty sprang smartly to attention. Relam turned and addressed their leader, who happened to be Narin.
“Aven and I are going to the Citadel to interrogate the prisoners. We need guards to accompany us.”
“Yes, your highness,” Narin replied immediately. “I’ll run to the guardroom and collect five others. Will that suffice?”
“That should be fine,” Relam agreed, nodding.
“Good. We’ll meet you at the entrance hall,” Narin said, saluting. Then, he took off at a jog, deeper into the palace where the guards had their headquarters.
“Did you capture any of the assassins yourself?” Aven asked curiously as they walked down the corridor.
“No,” Relam said, pursing his lips in annoyance. “I hardly got to fight at all. Narin and his men took care of it. The most useful thing I did was provide a distraction. All the assassins threw their daggers at me instead of the guards and that allowed the guards to subdue them.”
“I heard that one of your guards died.”
“You heard right,” the young prince said with a sigh. “He saved my life.”
“How does something like this happen?” the boy demanded. “In the palace of all places! Five assassins, dead guards, the king unconscious . . . that should have been impossible.”
“Believe me, I’ve been asking myself the same questions for the last few days,” Relam agreed as they started down the main staircase to the entrance hall. “How did they get in? Who are they? Who hired them? What’s their end goal? Who was the real target of the attack?”
“Do you think the assassins have the answers?”
Relam shrugged, coming to a halt at the base of the stairs. “They might. The bigger question is, will they be willing to share those answers with us.”
“I’m going to guess ‘no’,” Aven muttered, scowling.
Relam grinned sardonically. “Right little optimist you are, Aven.”
They stood in silence, Aven tapping his foot impatiently, scanning passersby intently. Relam leaned against the banister at the base of the stairs, thinking, wondering. Adding new questions to his list all the time.
Finally, Aven nudged the prince with his elbow. “Here come your guards.”
Relam turned and saw Narin leading a band of five guards, all fully armed and armored. Much of their equipment was hidden beneath dark blue cloaks though, so that they appeared to be more or less ordinary soldiers.
“Here,”
